


Pudge's Guide to Scoring More Runs

by thesaddestboner



Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Crack, Gen, Idiot manchildren, Screenplay/Script Format, cartoonish violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-08
Updated: 2005-09-08
Packaged: 2018-09-19 03:41:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9417002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaddestboner/pseuds/thesaddestboner
Summary: Pudge thinks up an idea to score more runs. Also, there are maulings.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [edgeoflovely](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=edgeoflovely).



> I originally wrote this for a friend for a fic meme. She gave me three of my Livejournal interests and I had to write a fic out of them. She picked veteran intangibles, giving others hives, and stealing people's souls.
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thesaddestboner) and [tumblr](http://saddestboner.tumblr.com).

~in the dugout~  
Trammell: How are we going to score runs? I’m out of ideas! Incentives didn’t work! Sacrificing a virgin didn’t work!  
DY: That’s probably because Omar isn’t really a virgin.  
Omar: (Limps in.) LIES! DMITRI IS A PACK OF LIES! (Points at DY.)  
DY: Shouldn’t you be putting the moves on Polanco’s wife?  
Omar: Oh yeah. (Hobbles off.)  
Polanco: Why did you do that? Isn’t he playing tonight?  
DY: We’re better off without his black hole in the lineup. We can just dress up a circus bear in Omar’s jersey and send it out there to eat the competition.  
Polanco: I thought the point was to score more runs than the other guy and win games.  
DY: That’s what they want you to think.  
Polanco: Oh . . . (Pulls cell phone out of his glove.) Have you orchestrated a trade to the Yankees yet? What do you mean the trade deadline has passed? Send in a helicopter to air lift me to safety then! These people are mentally unfit!  
-enter Pudge-  
Pudge: I have solved our problem of scoring runs.  
Brandon: What’s your idea, Pudge?  
Pudge: I will steal their souls.  
Brandon: And how do you suggest we go about stealing souls?  
Pudge: Hold onto your horses! I didn’t get that far!  
Brandon: Why don’t we just stop swinging at bad pitches and exercise some plate discipline?  
Monroe: Do not listen to that one. He speaks in riddles.  
Magglio: Yes, his words are like honey to the ears, but honey attracts bees.  
Brandon: The hell?  
DY: They’re pretending to be zen. Really, I think they just sniffed too much incense.  
Monroe: Yeah. Incense. Right. (Laughs.)  
Shelty: Why don’t we just start hitting, getting on base, moving the runners up and driving them in?  
Pudge: I like my idea better.  
JJ: Me too. I could use a zombie love slave.  
Vance: Me too. (Pause.) Not the zombie love slave part, the agreeing with Pudge part.  
JJ: Riiiiight.  
Trammell: You people are insane.  
-Omar returns-  
Omar: (Scratching furiously.)  
DY: What’s wrong, Omar, got crabs. Again?  
Omar: NO! Pudge cursed me with hives!  
DY: There’s no such thing as curses!  
Pudge: That’s what you think. I curse you to play in left field!  
DY: Some curse. (Scoffs.)  
Pudge: The motion is carried! (Waves hands in the air.)  
DY: Oh, shut up. (Gets up and leaves.)  
Brandon: Oh, Pudge, this is going so well. Wake me up when you’ve stolen someone’s soul. (Lays down on the bench and puts his hat over his face.)  
Gibson: Am I the only one concerned with the fact that you idiots are all jabbering in the dugout while there’s a freaking GAME going on?  
-Pudge and Vance look at one another-  
Vance: Who’s catching?  
Gibson: The trained circus bear, Gary. Get your ass out there before he eats someone! (Shoves Pudge out of the dugout.)  
Magglio: The bear is named Gary?  
Gibson: What are you doing in here? You should be in right field!  
Magglio: Higginson came and said that I was needed in the dugout!  
Gibson: Christ.  
-Pudge runs back in, his uniform shredded-  
Pudge: The bear doesn’t like me.  
Gibson: I said get out there! (Shooes him.)  
Brandon: (Snores.)  
Pudge: (Screams.)  
Trammell: (Taps Brandon on the knee.) Hey, uh, Brandon? Can you suit up in your catcher’s gear?

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


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